“No. Just an SUV. Black. They drove right by.” Mrs. Hobbs knelt beside Brynne. “What can I do?”
“I don't know,” Brynne said. “Maybe elevate his feet?”
God, she didn't know. She stared down at her unconscious friend and panic erupted again, making her skin buzz. The distant siren came closer and she peered over her shoulder, watching for the ambulance. Please, hurry. Please.
“Brynne,” Reid said, “two more breaths.”
She did as she was told and Reid continued CPR. She let out a gasping sob, her shoulders bowing in as she drew air through her nose, took in that nasty metallic odor, on him, on her, everywhere.
Pull it together.
She pushed her shoulders back and focused on her friend, on him not dying.
Please, don't die.
“Hang on, Nelson. Help is on the way.”
3
In the middle of Main Street, blue, red, and white swirling lights of the ambulance and two police cruisers bounced off the buildings and lit up the darkening street. The cruisers sat crosswise, stretched across Main, and Reid glanced down at Brynne. After the shooting, Randi had rushed outside and now stood with her arm slung over Brynne's shoulder.
Brynne's bloodshot eyes and the black streaks of eye makeup trailing down her face weren't the worst of it. Not by a long shot.
Blood stained her hands and cheeks and the formerly dynamite blue dress. The blood and the black streaks were the only color against her ashen skin, and she stared at him with a zoned-out look—vacancy—that he'd seen enough to know shock had set in.
A pop went off in his chest and he flinched, recalling the first time he'd felt that pop after one of his army buddies got a leg blown off by a roadside bomb. She's okay. Unharmed, but dealing with emotional trauma. Not wanting to spook her, he shoved his hands in his pockets. Shock did weird things to people. If he touched her, it might snap whatever control she clung to.
So, yeah, he'd keep his hands to himself.
For now.
Down the sidewalk, in front of the Mad Batter bakery where the daily message on the sidewalk board screamed “Seize the day, eat a cookie,” a small group of folks were barricaded by one of Maggie's deputies. Do-Right, they called him.
Reid couldn't see beyond the ambulance and the people milling around, but saw enough to know two paramedics tended to Nelson. Miracle of all miracles, Reid and Brynne had managed to get a pulse on the guy and now the two medics stood, raised the gurney, and wheeled it to the ambulance.
He faced Brynne and waited for her foggy brain to track that he wanted her attention. She blinked once. Then again and—bam—the haze in her eyes evaporated. There you go. “Brynne, are you okay?”
One of the paramedics counted three and Reid angled back, spotted them hoisting the gurney into the ambulance.
Damn. Shit like this was bad enough on a battlefield. In the middle of town? With innocent civilians? It chapped his ass.
He took a small step sideways, blocking Brynne's view of the ambulance. “The deputies will want to talk to you.”
She nodded, but had she even heard him? Definitely in shock. Total space zombie right now. He slid a look to Randi, and she hitched her eyebrows up in the universal holy crap, this is nuts way.
He brought his attention back to Brynne, who kept her gaze plastered to the center of his chest, just staring.
“Brynne,” he said, keeping his voice low and even. “Honey, did you see the shooter?”
* * *
Something in Brynne's head snick, snick, snicked as Reid and his massive body blocked her view.
He'd asked her a question. Hadn't he? Something about the shooter. Shooter. Shooter. Shooter. But she continued to stare at the defined valley between his pecs where the fabric of his T-shirt curved over that exact spot where Nelson's chest hemorrhaged.
Ohmygod.
Finally, she raised her gaze. Reid's mouth moved again, his lips forming words that came to her as one long whum. She shook her head.
“What?”
He said something to Randi and she lifted her arm from Brynne's shoulder, taking all her comforting closeness with her.
“Wait,” Brynne said. Come back.
“Water,” Reid said. “She's getting you some.”
Water.
Huh. “Okay.”
But damn, why did Randi have to go? For a few seconds there, with Randi hovering, she felt…protected. Against her thoughts, against Nelson bleeding on the street. Against the disgusting, smelly blood smeared all over her.
Now? Gone. And it all rushed back. The shots, the sirens, the panic.
“No.” She balled her hands so tightly her nails pressed painfully into her palms.
Moving fast, Reid wrapped his giant hands around her skull and dragged her forward, into his chest. He held her there and the musky scent of his soap overrode the nasty metallic odor of Nelson's blood. And, oh, a man hadn't held her this way since her husband.
She wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed. Just held on because—God—what had happened?
“You're okay.” Reid ran his hands down her back, gently stroking. “Don't breathe too fast. You'll hyperventilate. You're in shock. Totally normal.”
Nothing about this felt normal. How could it? She rolled her head back and forth against his chest. The guy must spend hours in the gym. And what a crazy thought right now. Coping mechanism. Right? That's all. She wasn't a bad person.
Was she?
“Is he dead?”
“I…uh…don't think so. They're taking him to the hospital. We probably saved his life.”
He lifted one of his hands away. “Thanks,” he said to someone and Brynne looked up, took in his strong jaw and blue eyes and dark hair.
Superman.
That's who he looked like. Lord, she really must be in shock if she was suddenly seeing superheroes.
“Randi brought you water,” he said. “Take a drink.”
He stepped back, unscrewed the cap on a drippy water bottle and handed it to her. A shot of cold condensation shot through her palm, an oddly relaxing sensation that focused her. “Thank you.”
“Ah, honey,” Randi said, “I'm so sorry you went through this.”
Pressure built behind Brynne's eyes and in her throat and all the controlled emotion—the horror—whipped back at her, banged at her, trying to burst free. She squeezed her eyes shut and—I'm going to lose it.
“Brynne, look at me.”
Reid's voice had an edge now. All the cooing softness vanishing.
“Don't hold it in,” he said. “Believe me, it won't help you. You've just seen some of the worst shit a person can. You wanna scream, do it. Cry? Have at it. I don't care. Neither does Randi. Tear this whole goddamned block apart if you have to, but don't shove all that garbage away. You bottle it up and it'll eat you alive.”
Of all people, he could relate. It's normal.
The pressure in her throat eased and she brought the bottle up. Glugged half of it. So good. Who knew?
He tapped the bottle. “Take it easy. Not so fast.”
Thankful for the gift of friends, she took one last gulp. Here were two people, one who knew her and one who didn't, but they’d taken the time to help her. And not make her feel like a crazy person.
She held the water up. “Thank you. Both of you.”
A door slammed from the street and a siren blared. One of the deputies pulling away.
The ambulance was gone. In her fuzzy state, she'd missed them taking Nelson away.
“I have to go,” she said. “To the hospital. I need my keys.”
Randi shook her head. “No way. You can't drive.”
“His parents live out of state. He can't be alone.”
Gently, Reid touched her arm. “The sheriff'll want to talk to you.”
“They can talk to me at the hospital. My friend needs me.”
Because, shock or no shock, she knew he'd lost a lot of blood. If he died, she didn't want him to do it al
one, in a hospital, surrounded by strangers.
* * *
Asshat that he was, the extremely male part of Reid wanted to know exactly what Brynne's relationship with this guy was.
What the hell was wrong with him? A couple of conversations and all of a sudden he was all up in her business—or wanting to be anyway.
A man had been shot; what the fuck did it matter what her relationship with him was? Friends or lovers, she had a need to be with him.
“I agree with Randi,” he said. “You can't drive.” A tight-lipped, mutinous glare took over her face and Reid held his hands up. “Before you go apeshit on me, how about one of us drives you to the hospital?”
“I can do that,” Randi said. “Not a problem.”
“Excellent.” Reid tag-teamed Randi's attempt to avoid an argument. “You take her and I'll talk to Maggie. They'll be looking for her. I'll tell her to head over to the hospital. That work?”
Brynne was already on the move, striding toward the entrance to her store. “Sure. Fine. I need to tell Jules to close up and go home. I'll meet you right in front here in two minutes.”
“I'll get the car.”
Brynne disappeared into the store and Reid faced Randi. “Try to keep her calm. I think she's in shock.”
“She sure is. When you were talking to Deputy Blaine I couldn't get anything out of her.” Randi closed her eyes for a second. “This is unbelievable. She's been friends with him forever. Who'd have imagined this could happen?”
Not in Steele Ridge anyway. Reid let out a long breath and gestured to the road. “You'd better get your car. She'll be out here and ready to go. Let's not get her riled up.”
He didn't know what a riled-up Brynne presented like and that was a problem when trying to help her deal with tragedy.
With the guys in his unit, he'd known exactly what to expect. Who got quiet, who threw things, who got verbal and chattered on endlessly, rehashing every element of the op—they all had a thing, a way to cope, they employed.
Reid? His was music. Tuning out with his iPod, grabbing a guitar, whatever, music helped him channel the anger and grief.
Randi headed toward the Triple B and Reid stood for a second, hands on hips, surveying the controlled chaos in the street and his sheriff cousin ordering bystanders to break it up.
Reid strode toward Maggie and stopped just outside the barricade. “Mags, I need a minute.”
She looked over at him, angling back without turning, clearly deciding whether he was being nosy or actually wanted something.
“It's important,” he said.
That got her moving. His family knew when to take him seriously. She headed over, her long legs moving fast, her blond ponytail bobbing with each step.
Maggie was all legs. Not thin, not fat. Athletic. From the time they were kids, she'd been into sports and still worked at staying fit. She might be ten pounds heavier these days, but it was all muscle.
She stopped on the other side of the barricade. “What's up?”
“Brynne may have seen something. I was with her, but my head was turned. All I saw was the SUV.”
“Do you think she saw the shooter?”
“I don't know. She's zoned out. She's friends with the guy who got shot.”
“I know,” Mags said. “I see them around. Where's Brynne now?”
“Hospital. He doesn't have family nearby. She wants to be there for him. How'd it look?”
Maggie gestured to the blood-soaked street. “Not good. He lost a lot of blood.”
In the fading sunlight, the dark red stain on the street glowed. The human body held somewhere in the vicinity of a gallon and a half of blood.
By the looks of it, a gallon of it had spilled.
Next steps. “If you need to talk to her, I think she'll be at the hospital awhile. But listen, she's wrecked right now. Total zombie.”
“Poor girl. I don't blame her.”
“You need anything from me? Can I help?”
“I wish you could. But no. This scene is already contaminated with all the first responders trampling through it. Tomorrow you're gonna buy me a beer, though.”
“You got it, cuz.”
“Sheriff!” one of the deputies yelled. “Need ya.”
“Go,” Reid said. “Do some good in this mess.”
He watched his cousin head into the fray of an active investigation and once again mourned the loss of the rush that came with action.
Inside, sick fuck that he was, he burned with envy. Eight months ago, he'd been the one in the fray, constantly throwing himself in danger and getting off on every second of it.
Now? Nothing. Did he have a hero complex? Absolutely. So what? He'd long ago given up denying it. He knew things about himself. The soft spot for puppies—and apparently baby ducks—and the even bigger soft spot for his loved ones.
Or really, anyone deserving of protection.
He knew that.
Now, standing on the sidelines and about to embark on a pity job from his billionaire baby brother, well, he knew that sucked.
* * *
Brynne sat in the surgical waiting area, spacing out in front of the television. A rerun of a sitcom about a blended family. She'd never been a big television person, but she suddenly understood the therapeutic value of sitting around, completely focused on the lives of the characters. Particularly their problems and embarrassing moments.
And not her own.
Ninety minutes she'd been here. The last thirty of it alone because Randi's cook had sliced open his hand and needed a trip to the hospital himself and someone had to deal with the kitchen at the Triple B. Brynne had shooed Randi out the door, telling her she'd call with an update.
Except for the bloody dress she still wore because she'd forgotten to grab something clean to change into, being alone wasn't a big deal. At least she'd had a chance to wash the blood off her hands and face.
She'd spent so much time solo in New York, where the only family she'd had was her cheating husband who was always “working,” that being by herself didn't faze her anymore.
It was simply a state of being.
“Hey.”
In the doorway stood Reid, all six foot plus of him, still in his jeans but wearing a clean T-shirt that wasn't tight yet clung to him enough to indicate the hardness underneath.
He moved toward her, his long strides confident and more graceful than any man his size should be able to pull off.
Her chest hammered. Of course it did. Looking at him would make any woman react, but she suspected her reaction—at the moment—had more to do with the presence of someone who'd turned into a hero in front of her.
Commanding. That was Reid.
She sat up a little and held his gaze. “Hi.”
He dropped into the chair next to her and shoved a small paper bag her way. “Protein bars. Randi said you hadn't eaten. Figured you weren't hungry, but you should get something in your system. Keep your sugar up.”
She took the bag and he set his hands on his thighs, tapped his fingers.
Whoever Reid Steele was, regardless of the gossip around town about his cocky, know-it-all attitude, he'd been kind to her.
“What are you doing here?”
“I called Randi for an update. She said she had an emergency.” He shrugged. “I didn't want you to be here by yourself.”
In case Nelson died.
He didn't say it. Didn't need to. They both knew it could happen.
“Thank you,” she said. “I was going to call my dad, but…I don't know. He'd have questions and I don't have answers and I'm strung out and just the thought of that conversation wore me out.”
“I get that. Believe me. I've had a few of those conversations recently. You just want everyone to be quiet and stop chattering at you.”
“Something like that.”
“Can I get you anything? Coffee?”
“No. Thanks. They should be updating us soon.”
His gaze drifted to the televisi
on and he watched for a few seconds before turning back to her. Oh, this man. Too…too…what? She didn't know. He was just…a lot. The size of him, the intensity, the brutal honesty, and the mouth that sometimes let loose with inappropriate things.
“I talked to Maggie,” he said. “They're dealing with the scene, but they're gonna need to talk to you.”
Brynne nodded. “That's fine. Whenever they want. I didn't see much, but if I can help…”
“You wanna talk about it?”
Not in the least. Bad enough she'd have to tell the sheriff, she didn't want to be repeating it over and over again. Reliving it.
She shook her head. “Not yet. Is that silly? I know I'll have to talk about it. Probably a lot. Sitting quietly feels like the calm before the storm.”
“And you don't want to ruin it.”
Exactly. She angled toward him, crossed one leg over the other. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Understanding. Most people would pressure me. I'm going to talk about it. I will. And I heard what you said before, about not keeping it bottled up. I just can't do it yet.”
“I know.”
He knew. Two simple little words that carried so much weight. Yes, the big ape of a guy had a way with her. An understanding. She liked him. Liked the way he didn't make her feel…stupid. Or foolish.
Or less.
And where did that come from? Less? How incredibly pathetic.
Stress probably. Thinking too much about her own life as Nelson fought for his. It happened, she supposed, when faced with mortality.
Reid slouched down, rested his head against the back of the chair, and focused on the television.
“This is a good show,” he said. “Evie made me watch it with her last week. She's such a goof. She was at school and called me. We watched it together on the phone.”
Not only did he understand what she was going through, he humored his sister and sat on the phone with her while watching television. What man did that?
She curled her fingers around the armrest, holding tight as a vision of her imploding five-year plan took hold.
“She gets lonely,” Brynne said.
His eyebrows hitched up. “Evie? No way.”
Living Fast: Steele Ridge Series Page 4
